the cats don’t care
if the rent goes up next year
right now the back door’s open
we tumble out
the sunlight’s merciless
mere buds on the branches
no feathers in the shade
the blue jay blares
succulents peep green
from puddingstone
I lay a blanket down
cold filters from the ground
my head, hurting in the glare
my head, too open to the air
Loved it!